


Snow in your footsteps

by FiKate



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: 5 Things, Canonical Character Death, Family, Fear, Gen, Narnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiKate/pseuds/FiKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Tumnus hoped for snow to hide in and one time he welcomed it. A gift fic for dodger_sister who requested a story: <i>regarding Tumnus and snow.</i></p>
<p>Warning for mentions of death and fears of it, a time when Narnia was afraid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow in your footsteps

I

  
The first snowfall after the White Witch’s coming, Tumnus sat beside his father as their home was full of their friends from the surrounding woods. No one knew when the snow would end and his father was working to give them hope. He spoke of great battles that Narnians had won, how they were brave and feared amongst the many lands. For a night, it seemed as if they would find a way to win though he felt how his father’s hand gripped his hair, the only way that he showed his fear. 

II

  
On the snow after his father’s death, Tumnus sat alone by the fire, the few who had left condolences had all gone back to their homes. All that remained of them was cold tea sitting in mugs he would have to clean and a fire that didn’t feel warm. No one wished to be seen too close to anyone else, but the snow would erase all sign of who knew whom. His father’s portrait looked down at him and Tumnus pulled down a book of history to read of better days. 

III

  
When the snow fell after Tumnus said he would watch the Lamppost for the Queen, he felt as if every step he left would mark him. It wouldn’t hide him, not from the eyes in the forest, those who once stood beside his father, those who still remained not dead or turned to stone. The door stuck in the cold and he pulled it tight before crouching by the fire and whispering to his father’s painting how sorry he was. He had failed their line, but he didn’t know what else to do. Everyone hid away in their homes except for those brave or foolish enough to dare to challenge the Queen and her wolves, but nothing ever came of it. He was alone, now he would simply be more alone but he would be alive. 

IV

  
Snow came with Mrs. Beaver on the last time she came for tea, it was a ritual that had begun near the start of the Long Winter but had been fading. He knew she pitied him and wondered about him, over tea they would watch each other and speak as if their world wasn’t trapped in snow and ice. There would be bread he had baked and she would talk of the newest thing she was sewing, perhaps even tsk him for the quality of his scarf. As she left, she said to be careful as she always did but there was no mention of when they might meet again. He knew she had seen the wolves close to him and it was safer to not take a risk. 

V

  
When Lucy left the snow fell and Tumnus watched it through his door, hoping that it would cover all traces of her passing. There never seemed to be enough snow when it was needed, it would fall gently, highlighting footsteps instead of erasing them with a thick fall. This looked to be one that would not be enough and he took his broom and swept the snow over her footsteps before sitting by his fire. He met his father’s eyes and said, “I hope I’ve done enough, father. I hope I’ve done something good and right.” 

VI

  
The first snow after Lucy and her siblings came to the throne, Tumnus smiled as he watched the world go white. He had made them all tea and hot chocolate which they drank peering out of his door. Mrs. Beaver had brought bread still fresh from the oven that they all ate as he sang a song that he had thought he’d forgotten about the joys of Winter. It was one his father used to play every first snowfall, but he had stopped it with the Queen’s winters. Now it could be sung again in Narnia. Lucy’s voice mingled with his own as Mrs. Beaver stirred the fire and tutted over the state of his cushions. They could have been in Cair Paravel, but Lucy said that she wanted to be by his fire and so they were. 


End file.
